Thoughts Are Few

And inconsistent;
largely light, reticent.
Struggling through
some lonely night –
I try to think; so on I write!

Music plays me,
curling strayly,
lost in worlds I cannot own.
Mindless – flightless –
walking slowly…
Soft in brains puss brought to show!

Short and tragically
we peer contemptuously:
Laugh at sordid, life-lost lightly.
On my grounds
I’m sure my folly
when the night brings losers; jolly!

Get Ready

Let’s get ready to shine a light
Here in the dark of our internet night
Plotting a coup in anonymous spaces
Driving the ire of inhumane wastes

Let’s shine a light on the core of these themes
Muster battallions through click-friendly meme’s
Inform those who’s backgrounds are hiding bones
Ransack the media, hammer points home

There is a real fight on our hands right here
Yes, unsettling but evermore clear
Some old-guard blackguards are keeping mum
Derailing all threats from your education

Let’s get ready to light the fuse
Shine our minds bright on this crippling ruse
Alas there’s slim chance of your own Eldorado
P’raps excuse tho’ to ignite future-wise souls

Flammarion

By Anonymous – Camille Flammarion, L’Atmosphère: Météorologie Populaire (Paris, 1888), pp. 163, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=318054

Which Way Hombre?

Inkling, twinklings,
choices to make.
Answers for everything
voices to shake.

Ideas and pictures
which flash through the mind
Easing out friction,
taking up time

Either /or /only
never both ways!
But neither exposes,
and only one pays!

Pancho Villa

Pancho Villa

Mighty Blighty

Bogged in time.
Lost your flow?
Gave up the line?
Where did all your ideas fly to?
Quite lost and loose they blew!
Free from your head…
As quick as they’re aired
each got up and fled!

How swiftly life drags
at this wiry frame
while fixing the body
you gave up the game!
So tough to accept that
rough wings have been clipped.
Though your ire is risen
there’s no ways left to trick.

Each menial moment:
this drowning you feel –
no chance of escape –
you’ve no means of appeal!
So remember,
sweet Britain,
next time you’ve the chance –
grab tight hold of life
don’t just give it a glance!

Wrap up in the throb
in the beat
of the pulse
and give up at your peril:
Let go? –you’ll lose hope.

Chewing it over

Bite chew swallow big bite long chew

A thousand made up half made thoughts
Invade my concave mind
I find
A hundred maybe less I grasp
And try to keep them to a side
Yet every day
More thoughts invade
I lose so much in time

Then somedays
Sometimes
Caught on curves
An idea comes to mind

Here in this brief fleet
I play
Tugging sharp and forced
Until that one kept idea lays
Prostrate
Ripped through
And worse

Alas the balance seldom wins
So few these great thoughts rain
Into another day
A thousand thoughts
Swirl in and out my brain
As watching them I bite and chew
Bite chew slow
And swallow